


Would you like a bouquet?

by Lyquoritte



Series: From the Other Side [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Flowers, Jeanmarco Month 2018, M/M, Memories, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 12:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyquoritte/pseuds/Lyquoritte
Summary: JeanMarco Month 2018 - Showers/FlowersDuring the fight in Marley, Jean finds a particular flower.





	Would you like a bouquet?

The sounds were muffled.

The battle had only just started, but it was supposed to be loud. The telltale sound of Thunder Spears going off, zip lines pulling the weight of soldiers around, hooks digging into wood and stone, Titan Shifters roaring above the screams of civilians and soldiers alike. It was all there, and he supposed he should have been fighting too, contributing to the noise.

But Jean couldn’t move.

He didn’t consider himself knowledgeable of flowers. He vaguely recalled approaching a florist’s back in Trost, when he was just a child and had been crushing on a girl from his school. He had been given the meaning of some flowers after he asked for a bouquet, but he hadn’t been able to pay attention through his embarrassment. “For a girl!” he had said, with childlike innocence and enthusiasm, and the florist had laughed lightly.

However, unlike the rows of flowers carefully presented to him by the florist’s glove covered hands, what had currently stolen his attention tugged at his heartstrings, holding a meaning deeper than any florist or book could possibly provide.

From the spaces between the stones of a cobbled street and right next to a wall, among the moss growing from humidity and the dust spreading from the battle behind him, a single flower stood in full bloom. With bright colors that seemed to shine under the light of a nearby lamppost, it reminded him of words spoken under the midday sun, the exhaustion of a morning worth of training catching up to him, and a harsh light reflecting from the worn and yellowed pages of a diary.

He remembers pushing himself past his limits, attempting to complete one more lap around the training camp than Eren –back then just _Yeager_ – and walking tiredly towards the thick trunk of a fallen tree where his best friend was waiting. Marco had probably ran only the laps assigned, as did most of the other trainees –then again, most of the other trainees probably didn’t have an unspoken competition going on with the resident suicidal bastard.

He had let himself fall into taking a seat beside Marco, who had an arm outstretched towards him and a water bottle in his hand. Jean had taken it gladly and drank greedily from it. The bottle had been only two thirds full, so surely his friend had already drunk from it. He had just wiped his mouth with his sleeve when he noticed the book in Marco’s hands.

“What’s that?” he had asked, and Marco had seemed to jump out of his skin, closing the book faster than Jean’s tired eyes could track and clumsily bringing it towards his chest. There was a deep blush adorning his face as he stuttered, and Jean couldn’t be sure whether it was from the sun or embarrassment, and didn’t notice his own face beginning to color.

“You don’t have to let me read it,” he reassured his friend, who pointedly avoided his gaze, “just, was that a flower?”

At that, if it was even possible, Marco’s face had colored even deeper. “Uh, yeah,” he’d replied, opening his book just a crack to take out a small and worn handkerchief. He held it carefully in his hand and set the book on his lap, using his now free other hand to cover the piece of cloth from the wind.

Inching a bit closer, Jean looked into Marco’s lightly trembling hands. Inside, on top of the embroidered handkerchief, laid a dried yet brightly colored flower. “It’s from back home,” Marco had said, and Jean’s mind wandered to that bouquet he had bought for a girl he once liked.

He didn’t understand why he felt his heart clench painfully at the idea of Marco receiving a flower – _from someone else_ , his mind provided, but he decided to ignore its small betrayal.

“My mom gave it to me,” he had continued, a soft smile gracing his lips, and Jean let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, “to remind me of my family and the days we spent together.”

Jean had told him he’d never seen one like that before, refusing to mention he’d barely had any interest in flowers throughout his life, but it was apparently the right thing to say. “That’s because it only grows in Jinae! Or so I’ve been told,” Marco had answered, scratching the back of his neck and smiling fondly, with a hint of nervousness.

Jean returned his gaze to the flower. He had thought it was beautiful, like Marco’s smile at the thought of home, or his eyes shining under the midday sun.

“Maybe, next time Instructor Shadis gives us a day off, I can bring you a few. Would you like a bouquet?” Marco offered, his voice tinted with amusement. Jean, mortification etched visibly on his face, realized he must have been thinking aloud.

And at that moment, when Marco’s laugh bubbled past his lips and Jean’s own face seemed to heat up a bit too much, he heard the dull and metallic sound of a hook embedding into stone.

“Jean!” he’d heard, Floch’s voice muffled by the sound of his zip line rolling back.

“Yes,” he’d wanted to answer, back then. “Yes, I’d like a bouquet,” he whispered to the moss covered stone below his feet.

“Jean, we have to go!” Floch screamed right in his face, turning him around and dragging him away from the flower. Everything still sounded far away, drowned by his thoughts.

_‘It only grows in Jinae!’_

“Move!” the desperate and exasperated voice of his comrade he could barely register as he was pushed to the ground.

“Apparently not so…” he whispered in reply to his memory of Marco, as Eren’s Titan came crashing down on the building he was previously standing in front of. Arms wrapped around his midsection and lifted him off the ground and towards the airship.

He almost didn’t catch the rubble crushing the flower down below.

 

 

 

The sound returned to him.


End file.
